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I swallow and hold out my hand. “I’m not an ATM or a banking app.”
Jay doesn’t give me the bag. “I need the fucking money.”
“Too bad. We’ve been over this.” Sticking to my guns when I want nothing more than to do anything to keep him there, I keep my hand outstretched. “You have an allowance. What happened to your job?”
“Stop being a bitch.” But fear flashes in his hazel eyes, along with guilt and anger.
Behind me, I feel him, like breath blown slow on my nape. Diego comes up, reaching around to take my bag. “That’s no fuckin’ way to talk to your aunt.”
“You called the pigs?” Jay asks.
Diego laughs. “Do I look like the cops? Apologize.”
“No.”
Jay turns, runs out the back door, and only Diego’s hand on my arm stops me from running.
“Diego, I had that under control.”
“Sure thing.” He nods at the back door. “Want me to go after him?”
“No.” I take my bag and hug it like armor. “How did you get in?”
He smiles softly and touches my cheek. anMy legs start to buckle at the sheer sweet tenderness of the moment. “You think a lock’s gonna ever keep me from you?”
“Diego. . .”
He drops his hand and steps back. “You needed me. It didn’t go as I hoped, but . . . I’ll catch up with him. I wanna really look into this crew he’s with. I’ll see you later.”
I stare after him as he goes, not sure exactly what the touch was, if anything at all. How he can turn everything upside down is still a mystery, and one I’ll never understand.
I shake my head and make coffee. I need to get things done today and try to find a way to help the kids still.
Something tells me the day’s not going to be good.
* * *
When Riff calls to ask me to a friendly dinner, I assume it’s because the news of my suspension has spread fast, but he doesn’t even bring it up. Honestly, I only go because I need a distraction. Everything is brick walls and barbed wire fences in terms of trying to set up some kind of before and after school outreach.
Peabody has long-reaching fingers tied to the mayor’s. They want to end all the troubles and sweep all the unpleasant things like kids who need help under the carpet.
It’s an election year, and I think Peabody’s making a play for some kind of promotion beyond mere principal.
The dinner’s at a nice, out-of-the-way Italian place in town, and it doesn’t take long to realize Riff’s looking to rekindle our romance.
“I just think,” he says, “we’ve been hasty ending things, and I’m here for you.”
I blink, trying to wrap my head around it. “We work better as friends.”
“Nadia.” He reaches for my hand, and I snatch it away, going for my phone.
“I have to call Jay. And I need to be up early.”
Not able to think of anything else, I pull out cash and put it on the table before running for freedom.
He isn’t a bad guy. He’s just one I don’t want.
On the pavement, I stop under a streetlamp as my phone pings. Another, no name or number, but this time it’s a message.
